Harvest Festival Harvest is a time of celebration in the church, The village church is full of late summer flowers, The leaves on the trees are shining in the afternoon sun.   Harvest is a time of the yellow harvest moon, The tractors and harvesters are already cutting down the golden wheat, Sacks full of grain.   Harvest is a time for berries and nuts, Pheasants hang upside down in butcher's shop windows, heads in bags, Long-legged craneflies dancing crookedly by the window.   Harvest is a time of wheat and corn, The wheat is getting safely gathered in, The farmer comes home from the fields hot and tired. James Lanning (Y6)     Harvest is a time for rabbits that watch beside country roads, Dew falls lightly along winding lanes, Combine harvesters get to work cutting the fields of wheat.   Harvest is the cool days of the late Indian summer, Pheasants darting through the hedgerow, Tree leaves turning golden.   Harvest is a time for the smell of hot berry pies, Purple-mouthed children sit by blackberry bushes, Thank you, Lord, for harvest time. Thomas Kebble (Y6)     Harvest is the farmers sweating in the fields, The dewy webs woven on hedges, Squirrels gathering food for their long winter sleep.   Harvest is heavy, dark berries on drooping bushes, The harvest moon glowing in the late evening sky like a fat gold watch, Haystacks like plump sausages lying in the field.   Harvest is an old church decorated with summer flowers, Cool perfumed air and cold dark shadows, Slow tractors chugging down the country lanes. Aiysha Patel (Y6)   (From Harvest Festival Assembly, 30th September 1997)

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